Varuo (M DBCicero)
by Farts
Summary: Lost and with nowhere to go, The Listener (an artistic young Bosmer) and Cicero find shelter in a small tent that'd been decorated by lovers past. Inside, they revel in each other's pleasurable company until fate drops a dangerous little reminder of his adulterous ways into Chac's very hands.


**Just a few notes to point out: This takes place sometime in relatively midpoint area of Chac's attempts to alleviate Cicero's worst symptoms of his madness. (It's a very long process) They're quite smitten with each other at this point and comfortable like dear friends. Some of Cicero's in-game behaviors are starting to take a backseat when they're together. And it's starting to become more and more common that they're out on the road together. (~4 years post-game)**

**~~~~~Varuo (Warning)~~~~~~~ **

"Listener, over there!" Cicero calls out, driving blizzard snow coming down on the two assassins as they combed the shoreline of the Sea of Ghosts.

"Thank Sithis" the elf sighs, both coming into view of the strange tent that was sheltered under a massive projection of glacier ice.

They'd been out on the road for days now, just the Bosmer and his musing minstrel Cicero on the frigid open trail Northbound. The destination wasn't quite set, It never really was when you traveled with the Dragonborn, and the artist was so prone to following his inquisitive heart that more often than not, they got lost. But this was far more _lost_ than they've ever been, in this eternal frigid hell that was the Sea of Ghosts. Both of them cursed and swore all the way as they walked west along sand and gravel. The sky was gray, the water, the mud, all gray and there was no path up the sea cliff for miles. If they didn't freeze to death tonight Chac swore he'd pray to Mara for weeks.

But up ahead there was what appeared to be a massive overhang in the ice, not unlike the slab that Winterhold remained upon. Beneath it no snow fell, wind curled around it's shape and left the tall tent untouched and eerily still. Approaching it came without danger, both men walking in and looking about, fading light making it difficult to tell what was what.

"This is the best we're going to get, that's for sure. Let's stop here, Cicero. I can't take this cold anymore." He threw off his pack, set down his weapons and looked to the firepit that lie just beyond the exit flap. Cicero copied him as the elf worked his survival magic on what was left of the tenant's firewood. Warmth soon came to their faces as they huddled around it. The little Imperial looked about, at the strange way the snow and wind just billowed out from above them and left everything below it untouched. The full-height tent behind them was fashioned of expensive leathers, but it was inside the tent that most caught his dark eyes.

"Ohhhohohoho! What happened here, I wonder?" Cicero jested, tilting his head and holding his knuckles against his temple in pretend thought. Chac turned his gaze and soon laughed alongside his Keeper. Sprawled on the floor where two bedrolls, well used, scattered uncorked bottles of wine and frozen mountain flowers decorated the meager hut of adultery. Chac mused, it wasn't uncommon for the Nords to escape into the wilds for romantic trysts, (especially for the young and shy) and this tent must have hosted more than a few.

"Looks like some naughty Nords needed a nonpublic night of nightmarishly necessitous necking, no?" the elf alliterated, grinning and toeing a bottle away from a bedroll before seating himself atop it, cross legged.

"_Oofff.._that's a good one. Damn you." Cicero cursed, he'll never beat him at this game at this rate. He plopped himself down beside the elf and took off his heavy fur cloak, leaving himself in only the leather of his new Dark Brotherhood armor. The fire warmed the inside of -their- tent, and it was the first sliver of comfort they've felt since Tirdas.

"Do you think there was any..you know. Spillage, here? The Nords _are_ known for their illustrious 'pull-out' maneuver."

"Oh Listener, please! Cicero was just getting comfortable!" he shook his hands in disgust, jittering.

"I'm just kidding of course. Do you have anything to eat?" The elf took his horn flask out from hip pocket and took a swig of the ol' Firebrand. Cicero couldn't handle it, so he didn't offer.

Sifting through his pack, Cicero squeals in joy to find what looked like the smushed remains of a once beautiful sweetroll "Oh, oh! Not a spot of mold!"

He offers it to him to share and they do, Chac smiling darkly to Cicero, watching him scoop up a thick dollop of icing onto his index finger. Cicero stares it down with desire before bringing it to his lips and sucking it off, moaning in delight. He loved the icing the most, Chac laughed at the naughtiness of it all. Big brown eyes catch his, and the Jester sports a cheshire cat grin.

"Oh what oh what could the hungry Listener be looking at, hmmm?" he sang, watching Chac's eyebrows drawn down as he gulped his last piece of dessert. He was still hungry, yes, very... and Cicero always looked sweet to him. Especially now, with the fire catching his pretty red hair, making it glow like hot iron, the freckles along the bridge of his nose getting caught in a wrinkle while he smiled. Many would say that Cicero wasn't attractive, but it was those few and far between who got to know him the way he does. He thought Cicero was just beautiful.

"Nothing really," He deflected the man, looking out onto the fire and beyond that, the ice and seafoam sway and crash against the dark shore. Cicero groaned and slunked his shoulders down, making it obvious he wasn't just looking to tease. "Just wondering what to do now..how about...a...game?" Chac sighs, his gaze playful.

Cicero perks up again, his eyes darting around his alluring surroundings before scanning the fit elf before him. The way he sat was very statuesque, something to be admired both near and far. He wanted that. So, so very much. Both of them knew it would come to this the moment they arrived here, it was just too uncanny. How could they not?

"I know a game we can play.." Cicero smirks, his eyes devouring Chac's as he gets on his hands and knees and crawls his slender form towards him, catlike and coy.

"Huh, do you now? Can I guess which game?"

"Oh you can guess, listener, but only a madman would get this wrong!"

They stare for a little while, chac rubbing his stubbly chin and pouting out his lip. He squinted and hummed, watching Ciceros eager grin... He was beautiful in the dark light, and he loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled . His lean body covered in nothing but the skintight Dark Brotherhood armor made Chac's cock stir under the cloth.

Chac stared him down, and Cicero knew him well enough to 'get' the face he pulled. Chac feigned an idiotic look, choosing to toy with playful Cicero.

"Is it Slapsies?"

"No! Guess again!" Cicero couldn't contain his excited giggle

"Stab and tell?"

"Close, close, but no again! Hehehe!"

Chac leaned in, face serious and concerned..

"Do you want me to count your toes again?"

"Listener! You jest with poor Cicero! Here, a hint."

Cicero lunged in and brought his face to Chac's, eyes fluttering shut, his pouty lips pressing flush to the elf's. He felt the whisper of a moan vibrate into his mouth, and he responded with a throaty growl. When Cicero pulled away he rolled onto his back, resting his ginger head into Chac's lap, staring up at him.

"And what am I supposed to make of that?" Chac groans down to him, hands at his sides and unresponsively smirking. Cicero reached his cold, bare fingers up and slid them across Chac's temple, stroking him down to the collar. His hand was warm by the time he'd rested it against his heart.

"Hhnnnmmh" he whines, wanting to say it but he just couldn't. He couldn't ever find the audacity to ask _it_ of him. It drove Cicero batty, not having that kind of power.

"Well, you know, we played the same game not a few days ago... in the bath house in Mzinchaleft, hmm?"

"Ohhhhh, that IS a good game. And looks like you're ready to play" Chac lifted a hand and spanned it down the soft leather on Ciceros chest, stretching forward and fingering the thickening lump between his legs. Cicero mewled behind closed lips, his petite frame arching up, legs apart. He caressed and smoothed his palm over the protective leather, holding back a laugh at the squeak Cicero let out when he pinched his inner thigh.

"But are you?" Cicero shook, turning his face to nuzzle his cheekbone against thick Elseweyr cloth covering his loins. And as luck would have it, Chac wanted to play too.

"You know me, always eager. Hehe.. come here, my sweet." He reached down and scooped Cicero into his impossibly strong arms, the ginger instantly throwing his own arms around the elf and laughing hard.

Winds whipped along the icebergs outside, fire flickered against the tattered hide walls of their tent, the floor of their shelter becoming a playpen to both bodies touching and gripping. Chac rolled the Imperial onto his back, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, the catches of his armor coming undone by deft flutist fingers.

Cicero's smile was beaming by the time the elf had pulled the armor from his torso, clinging tight to his waistline and the ginger hairs on Ciceros chest and stomach flattened down to his skin. Even those gleamed in the faintest of firelight, the vellus hair along his edges shined impossibly bright as if the madman was glowing.

"Lovely listener.." he sang, leaning up and sneaking an eager kiss to his lips, holding the back of his dreaded head and entering his mouth with an eager tongue. Chac was always mesmerized by the passion and skill behind each curl of his tongue against his own. Like there had been others before him, maybe someone else in the past he'd loved like this... and it always vexed him.

The Keeper climbed up the expanse of Chac's broad chest, lips locked and whining in need. Chac felt the hitch in his voice and the bite on his lip when at last he slid a hand under his parted armor and took little Cicero into his hand. It felt hot, the entire shaft fitting perfectly into his grip.

In his other hand he took Cicero by the hair, holding the submissive man back-down flat to the bedroll. Cicero was forced to lay under the power of his piercing gaze, succumbing to pleasure by feeling the shuffling of the artists' beautiful, beautiful fingers. The smaller man eagerly drives his hips up into Chac's warm grip, hissing and his back lifting clean off the floor and back down again with a thump, fucking his hand.

"Uhhnn! Mmh!" The cries that came from Cicero got Chac so hard, he couldn't wait to seal the bond. He roughly pumped his lover at his own pace until two bare hands came around his shoulders, digging in while the younger man cried out "Ngh, stop, please!" the elf pulled his overwhelming friction away, enjoying the little piece of art he'd turned the Keeper into. A nimble body splayed out, fair skin flushed pink from the chest up and his perfectly petite cock jutting from his hips. He loved the shape of it, the livid, red flesh an ideal size to wrap his lips around and please.

And that's all he could think of right now, feeling Cicero's fingers come around his thick wrist and guide him to his chest for a stroke. The elf cranes his body over Cicero's as if he where a predatory beast, growling in excitement. His bare hand slides along the bedroll beneath them until his hand hit dirt, ring finger catching something small until it was pulled out from underneath them.

"Please, Listener" He begs, oh gods did he love how Cicero always begged. The Imperial wrapped his booted leg around his waist, urging him closer. "_I_ need you!"

Cicero's eyes flutter shut as he waited impatiently to be led, his body writhing and squirming lightly as if he was still being touched. It was an incredibly hot sight, to see what you could do to a man with just a few pulls and pushes. Cicero had been so deprived of touch (even his own, for some time before they even met) the slightest of pressure and warmth against his skin was like rapture to him. Even the ghost of Chac's skillful hands left him gasping with goosebumps coming to his flesh... And to be viewed like he was so lovely and desirable where all others would make him feel ugly.. it was bliss to feel this way.

"I'll eat you up," the elf groans, so dragonlike and predatory. He was alien to his every sense. "...and leave nothing left, lover."

"_Brava!_" Cicero cries, his native tongue remembered in the curse. His mad, dark gaze could kill.

The elf moved to lean on his elbow, his arm coming forward to rest besides Cicero's head, body moving in between his still-dressed legs, armor tangled in the heap that they've become. The loop of a chain now around the elf's ring finger came along for the ride, and light caught gemstones in the corner of Chac's eye.. His gaze flickers up, something cold and metal in his palm. It only took a second before he had to make a double-take at the small item.

An amulet of Mara that remained hidden until now had been almost literally dropped into his palm. Cicero moaned aloud at the feel of Chac's heavy body pressed true to his own, rocking up into his hips. But quite suddenly, Chac didn't notice any of that. Affixed on the amulet now square in his view, the elf thought entirely of nothing.

Little floating zaps of memory came to him and then left, airbrained and silently still. Mara. Marriage. Love. Vilkas. The elf shook and felt his core go cold with the staggering realization that he felt guilty.

"Hhnngh, come on now," Cicero breathed, the long moment of stillness bringing him out of his spell.

Thoughts of his beautiful children came flooding into his heart, abruptly wondering what they're doing right now back home in Solitude.. are they healthy? Happy? Was Vilkas missing him while he squandered his love for another? Sure, Chac always knew a man's heart could be too big for just one love; but Vilkas... He'd be shattered if he found out. He doted on Chac far more that anyone would ever know, he kept it hidden often but there wasn't a greater love or hero in his life than for the Dragonborn. That's why they got married, wasn't it? The elf's skull felt pierced by pain.

"Listener?" Cicero's eyes gaped wide as he looked in the darkness down at Chac's hips, the thick bulge he was grinding against all too soft and fading. His gaze traveled up to see his lover staring at..well something. Before he had another moment to focus the elf had suddenly pulled it into his grip and moved to sit up and away, his warmth gone and cool air now against him.

"Is there trouble?!" Cicero immediately faulted to paranoia, wondering if he had sensed a threat coming with his keen elven hearing. His excitement momentarily waning, he moves to get up, only to be stopped abruptly.

"Wait. No, no... _no, no, I didn't mean... I just-!_" it was the Listener who now seemed the crazed one, his black eyes darting back and forth as accusing voices assaulted his mind, numbed his lips and leaded his feet.

"..ernk...Listener?" Cicero cocked an eyebrow, seeing the elf stumble back into the darkness, his shirt half opened and belt undone.

Anger. that's what he felt next, angry at the voices telling him he'd fucked up again. Angry for what's happening right now, for himself and his family, but most of all...

Most of all, angry at Cicero. The unstable elf glared daggers as he poured his short temper out onto him.

"Should I get the holy water?" Cicero tried to joke, his brow furrowing seeing the elf's fists clench and unclench as he stared at him. His face was hawklike, angular and caught firelight in such an imposing way it made Cicero shiver in discomfort.

"Shut up, gods DAMN YOU!" He roared, "SHUT UP!" he cries, again and twice more until his voice cracks. Cicero scuttles back on his rear away from him, his look of shock was so intense it was almost, sigh, comical. Chac found it funny, somewhere in the whirlwind of his mind. Chac leaned over and grabbed an empty wine bottle, lobbing it towards Cicero and blatantly missing, the glass shattering and ringing in both of their ears.

Cicero gulped once it was freakishly silent. He was very scared, blood seeped from a tiny cut against his collar.

Chac uttered something in between a curse and a plea, and darted out of sight into the dark, not yet realizing what he'd done.

Cicero sat there, motionless for what feels like seconds to him. But there he sat for hours, shivering with his armor undone and having little will to put it back on. The Fool of hearts inside him begged him to believe it was all just a big prank, that the sweet listener would come back and hug him and say it was all alright, that he wasn't really doing this to him.

That he wasn't mad at poor, poor Cicero.

~~~~  
PS: Chac isn't all that good. The experiences he faced since coming to Skyrim have damaged his mind, and he's quick to anger and to abuse his amazing power. He's also a half-on-half-off the wagon alcoholic and Skooma addict because it helps him deal with stress. And the way Cicero treats him like his master has gotten to his head in the past... But forgive him. He's a very troubled elf.


End file.
